Nocturne No. 3
by Solitaryrose
Summary: Music is a passionate way to express your feelings... and Kaoru Miki does just this. For a concert, he dedicates a song to Anshi, but what will her reaction be?


Nocturne No. 3  
  
Smiling with tender remembrance, She gazed at the vision of the young man furiously scribbling on multiple sheets of music paper. He was working with dedication and vigorously thinking, she could tell. His sky-blue-haired head hung over the half-completed composition while his fine-boned fingers gripped the quill tightly.   
  
"Ah, Miki. How many years I have not seen you, old friend. Have you forgotten me? Most likely you have. But I doubt you forgot her. Is it a composition for her you are writing?" She smiled gently as She looked at the mirror in front of Her. "Yes, I think it is."  
  
She watched intensely, with the acuteness of an eagle but the tenderness of a dear friend, as Miki crumbled up one piece of paper and angrily threw it into the trashcan. It was already piled high with nearly fifty crinkled, mangled, and ripped failed pieces of paper. She kept on watching him for an hour, as he struggled.  
  
"Miki, why must you suffer so? When you were half the age you are now, you could write a famous piece. So why are you laboring over this one?" Attempting to touch the crystal surface of the mirror she was gazing through with a wince, She whispered to him through jolts of pain. Those swords in her body... they hurt her terribly. That coffin She was in... it gave her sufficient air to live but not enough to be Herself again. No, that was not right. She didn't need air anymore. She was immortal.  
  
"This can't be happening! I have a concert in a month, and I still can't get this right!" Overcome with anxiety, Miki wailed while throwing down his quill with one hand and clutching his aching head with the other. "I can't stand this! Anshi, what am I to do? I love you so much, yet I can't dedicate a song to you! I am such a pathetic fool!" He collapsed on the floor, panting. Beads of sweat clung on to his damp hair as he breathed heavily. "Calm yourself down, Miki," he told himself roughly, "I must calm down in order to write this. Anshi would want it to be beautiful. She would want it to be like her." Scrambling up onto his expensive leather swivel chair, he retrieved his lost quill and succumbed to peace. "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm in, anxiety out." Immediately after saying these words, he got back to work.  
  
"Oh, Miki. How you have changed. Why are you such a grief-stricken sixteen-year old boy now? Has this change happened because of someone? Was it I who influenced you? No, what am I talking about? You don't even remember me, do you? Neither do the rest of Ohtori. Except for Akio and Anshi. Oh, Anshi. Both of us love you so. You are such a lucky woman." She spoke to herself. "Am I going mad waiting for you, Anshi? Because now I am speaking to myself. What's wrong with me?" Grinning, She thought, Miki and I are alike. We are both going mad for Anshi.  
  
She continued to watch him.  
  
He held up the twenty pages of paper triumphantly. After five nonstop days of work (with obviously a few water and bathroom breaks!), he was ready. Even though he was emaciated, overcome with fatigue, and ready to collapse, he finally managed a chuckle. The concert was in a few weeks, and he was ready. Now all he had to do was practice it.  
  
Happily surveying the young man concentrating on playing his composition perfect, She was able to get her fingers moving. The swords pinned her whole body down in the coffin, but not her hands. Without even knowing what in the world She was doing, She drummed her fingers to the passionate rhythm of the piece. It was dark and filled with the fervor of night. Pure, eternal love poured from the fifteen-minute long song. She was spellbound, and for once didn't even notice the pain of the swords. No wonder Miki had spent so much time and effort writing this. It was a miraculous piece that took her to his mind and gave her images of Anshi in his view. Miki, you must love her very, very much, She thought with wonder as She listened to him play.   
  
On the day of the Ohtori concert, Miki stood next to a jet-black elegant Grand Piano that shone with radiance and mysticism. Miki himself was clad in a crisp, stylish black suit that suited him so well that She would have thought it was made just for him. Or, perhaps it had. Oh, and there was Anshi, standing all by herself in a corner of the large hall. She knew that Anshi wouldn't have come if Miki hadn't invited her. Ah, old memories, she thought as visions of the past with Anshi swept through her troubled mind, Such as that day of the ball we they were fourteen years old. Anshi was an extremely reclusive individual whom some people had called her a hermit. Fools. Anshi wasn't a hermit. She just wasn't social, that was all.  
  
"Miki, hello." Anshi finally managed to see Miki. However, he was standing next to the piano for about five minutes, waiting for someone to cue him to begin. And Anshi had JUST managed to see him! With a smile, the young woman in the coffin watching the two of them laughed lightly. Anshi was always like that, and still is, She thought, she's coy and forever taking time to do things.  
  
An explosion of sound responded to Anshi's quiet greeting which not one person heard, except for her infatuated admirer. Dramatic arpeggios, chromatics, and even scales added to the overall romantic and yet sad mood. Miki's love was told through a song of night. That was why it fit Anshi perfectly, for Anshi was one who seemed to be of the night; she was the opposite of day, which was Miki. Silence came from the audience, and even Anshi watched the musician and listened to his tale of love unfold from the piano. Feverishly Miki's hands sped up and down the gleaming keys of the piano, his eyes narrowed with focus.   
  
She, too, watched.  
  
A single, loud, dark chord that signaled the end of the piece finished the composition off. After a moment of awe, the audience sitting in ornate chairs at the bottom of the platform on which the piano stood applauded zealously. She, too, would have clapped, if it were not for Her trapped arms. Pain had subsided for the fifteen minutes that the song went on for, but it was coming back. She couldn't get herself out of her horrid situation, no matter what would happen. Vehemently She sobbed, with regret that She not able to congratulate Miki and with the anger that She was trapped forever in the coffin.  
  
Anshi clapped, as well. She watched as Miki stood up and bowed, then turned to face her with a glowing smile. He addressed the audience, "This piece is a song dedicated to a dear friend. Her name will not be mentioned, for she prefers to be anonymous, but this composition of music suits her personality and complexion extremely well, if I may say. It is titled, 'Nocturne Number 3', for all the years that I have loved her and cherished her being here. Every year I wrote a song dedicated to her. Thank you for listening to my performance. I believe that Okuda Hanae will be up next with the flute." And with a final bow, he got down from the stage.  
  
Obviously the audience did not think that it was a sufficient explanation of his nocturne, but they did not press him as he left the auditorium. Thus, they settled back down in their seats, disappointed, as they awaited the next musician.  
  
During the reception, Miki managed to find Anshi, who was standing near a refreshment table. Greeting her happily, he walked over to her with long, quick strides.   
  
"Anshi, I'm sorry that I mentioned all of that for my little speech, but I couldn't restrain myself," he told the dark-skinned young woman with a furious blush.  
  
"Oh, don't worry about that, Miki," Anshi replied.  
  
"Anshi..."  
  
"Oh! You chose this day for the concert because it was my birthday, wasn't it?" Anshi smiled slightly with a twinkle in her eyes.  
  
A bright red flush spread to Miki's face. He fidgeted as he uttered, "Yes, Anshi. It-It is your birthday today, and that's why I requested that the concert be on this day." Neither of them said a word for a minute. Then, Miki spoke again, "Anshi... you've always known that I have loved you. Do you love me?" His words were chosen quietly and slowly.  
  
"Miki... I..." For once, Anshi appeared to be a bit nervous.  
  
Emboldening, Miki went on, "Anshi, I have loved you ever since I was thirteen and you were fourteen. For each year of my concern and affection, I've written a nocturne just for you. But I never presented them. Do you know what a nocturne is, Anshi?" Not even waiting for Anshi's answer, he continued, "A nocturne is a romantic and dramatic musical composition that has the effects and feelings of night. I know that it suits you well, so that's why I chose it just for you, Anshi. Just for you."  
  
Miki's eyes pleaded with Anshi to tell him that she loved him. The girl in the coffin waited anxiously for his answer. Woe to them all if Anshi lied. Pleading, begging for an answer, She whispered to Anshi, "Come on, Anshi. I know that you love us both. But don't lie that you love him with all your heart, because I can feel that you don't. Please, Anshi. He'll know if you're lying or not. Don't lie, Anshi. Please don't lie."  
  
As if she knew that She was watching, Anshi looked straight up and her eyes met Hers in the mirror. Taken aback, She gasped. How could Anshi see through the mirror of Revolution? Only the viewer could. However, Anshi wasn't an ordinary mortal. She was something else, a witch. Smoothly speaking, Anshi looked straight at Her, in Her coffin, and said, "Miki... I don't love you. I'm sorry. I don't love you. I already have that special someone. I am looking at her right now, and she is doing the same. I am her shining thing, and she is mine. I'm sorry, Miki." With that, she walked away, head down. As she exited out of the exquisite building, she looked up at Her again, and whispered, "Utena, I'm coming."  
  
Giving a heartbreaking moan, Miki dropped to the floor on his knees. Afterwards, he got up and gloomily walked over to the Grand Piano and picked up his piece. Then he ripped it into pieces, right in front of the audience. A wind blew from an open door, and scattered the ripped papers of his nocturne. They flew like scattered roses. Scattered nocturnal roses.   
  
  
Author's note: Yes, I know. I don't own Utena, but Chiho Saitou and B-Papas do, okay? However, this fic is owned by me, so HA! Anyway, I hope that you liked it. It's rather confusing sometimes, I have to admit, but I don't think that it's bad. Okay, don't forget to review, please!  



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